Rest in Peace, Rupert Giles
by Tuch
Summary: After Giles dies, Buffy realizes she doesn't have all the time in the world to get what she wants. And what she wants is Angel.


Rest in Peace, Rupert Giles

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own "Buffy" and all the characters in this story.

Notes: I started this short fic before the end of "Angel," so it is slightly AU in that Wesley, Angel and Spike are still alive. Otherwise, it follows canon of both series and is set about 10 years after "Chosen."

* * *

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are gathered here today to mourn the death and celebrate the life of our beloved friend, Rupert Giles."

And so the funeral began. He sat in the back of the room, as far away from the casket as he could get without physically leaving the room. It wasn't the body that bothered him, although he was sure he was the only one who could smell the embalming fluid. He was bothered more by the huge cross hanging over it. He couldn't remember Giles expressing any particular religious beliefs, but then, he hadn't known him all that well.

Through the crowd, he spotted Buffy sitting in the front row. He could always pick Buffy out of a crowd. Her head was hung low, and she and Willow clung to each other, sobbing. Then there were Dawn and Xander, who seemed to be leaning into each other for comfort. The minister droned on some more, but Angel found his attention drifting to the casket. He and Giles hadn't been tight, but he was sorry to see him go. He'd been a good man, one Buffy could always count on, and he was glad that he'd died naturally instead of in battle. He deserved that much.

In the row nearest the exit sat Angel, Wesley, Spike, and a bunch of people Angel didn't recognize. Mostly teenage girls. Slayers, probably. They smelled like power. He knew that sounded dirty, but it was hard for a vampire to ignore that much Slayer blood in one room.

Wesley shifted slightly as the minister talked about Giles' accomplishments in the Watcher's Council, both before and after its destruction. Angel glanced at him, but he didn't see any anger or resentment. Wesley had never gone back to the Council, but he and Giles had managed to bury their bitterness years before.

The minister stepped away from the podium, and Buffy took his place. Even from the back of the room Angel could see the wet mascara smeared under her eyes.

"Good morning, everyone," she started. Her slender fingers gripped the edge of the wood, and her shaky voice filled the room with the help of the microphone. "I'm here today to tell you what a great man Giles was. He did so much for me, taught me so much, I don't—" She stopped and pressed her palms to her eyes, leaning into the podium for support. A few seconds ticked by before Willow made her way to Buffy's side and put an arm gently around her shoulders. The room had grown silent except for Buffy's sobs and Willow's whispers of encouragement. Angel could hear them easily, and he had to mentally restrain himself from running to the front of the room and trying to make things all better. Not like he could, anyway.

"I can't do this, Will," Buffy whispered. "I can't, I can't, I—"

"You can do this," Willow assured her over the protestations. "It's the last thing you can do for him, the only thing, and you're going to hold it together long enough to tell these people what an awesome person Giles was. You can do it." She gave Buffy's hand a final squeeze and resumed her seat, and Buffy stepped back up to the microphone.

"I wrote a speech for today," she said, her voice still shaky but less hysterical. "Some of you know how fond I am of speeches." Soft, uncertain laughter erupted in spurts throughout the room, and Buffy continued. "But my speech sucks, so I'm just going to tell you what I know about Giles. He was amazing," she said. Her voice steadied, and Angel could detect the enthusiasm of 16-year-old Buffy within this weary, grief-stricken 33-year-old version.

"I can still remember clearly the first day I met Giles. It was my first day of school at Sunnydale High, and I went into the library to get a textbook, and there was Giles, the new librarian and my new Watcher. He whips out this book on vampires, and I nearly run screaming into the hallway. This was back when there was only one Slayer, and that Slayer was me, and I didn't want any part of it. I really rode Giles hard about not wanting to do the Slayer gig, but he never lost his patience. He just kept being Giles. Solid, understanding, dependable, wise." She sniffled, and pockets of soft crying from around the room punctured the silence.

"Throughout the next seven years, he became one of the most important people in my life. Besides knowing just about everything, he also knew how to make things better. He could have been a by-the-book Watcher who just pointed me in the direction of the bad guys, but he wasn't. There are two people who have loved me unconditionally in my life—my mother and Giles. Giles didn't have to care, but he loved all of us so much that he couldn't seem to help himself. You wouldn't have known it though, because he didn't get all blubbery about it like I am now.

"He was also a man of courage. He did and said things others couldn't, or wouldn't, because he knew they needed to be done. Even when there were hundreds of Slayers, he never stopped working to make this world a better place, and I miss him more than I can ever express here, because Giles was my hero. Thank you." She cut off her speech as her voice choked up again, and she took her seat next to Willow.

The rest of the service went along as expected, and Angel took the sewers to Giles' London apartment, where he'd promised to meet Buffy after the burial. Early-afternoon sunning wasn't his thing. Wes went to the cemetery with the mourners, and Spike went off somewhere. Angel didn't ask—or care—where.

Angel had intended to sit in the kitchen and wait, but being alone in Giles' apartment made him antsy with boredom. After spending some quality time drumming the glass tabletop, he stood and wandered through the two-bedroom flat, examining the things the Watcher had left behind. Bookshelves crammed with old, leather-bound volumes overwhelmed the décor and took on a presence of their own. The master bedroom was filled with them, and Giles had turned the smaller room into his own bedroom. They stretched throughout the living room, and even the kitchen had a few shelves dedicated to books with titles like, "Demonic Linguistics, 1300-present." Angel thought of Wesley's personal collection and smiled. It must be a Watcher thing.

Angel stepped into the room that had been Giles bedroom and wasn't surprised to find that it was spotless. He also wasn't surprised that the smell of death still lingered. Giles had died in that room after months of agony and morphine-induced semi-consciousness, and Angel spent a rare moment grateful he was a vampire. He might never be able to walk in the sunlight, but he would also never die the torturous death that was stomach cancer. Giles hadn't gone quietly into that goodnight, and suddenly Angel changed his mind. Perhaps it would have been better if he'd died at the hands of a vampire or some other demonic force. At least it would have been quick.

Angel's eyes ran over photographs on the oak dresser. Some were of people he didn't know. Another made him grin involuntarily. It was of Buffy, Willow and Xander in togas, standing on what looked like a school stage. All three of them looked more terrified than he's ever seen them in their lives. He remembered that night at the talent show. Buffy never knew he was there, but he was glad he'd arrived to see Buffy the vampire slayer so comically out of her league. Another snapshot was of Giles and Joyce in the Summers' living room, sitting on the couch and talking animatedly about something. They both looked happy and content, and Angel found himself inexplicably pleased that there had been some moments in Giles' tenure at Sunnydale that hadn't been filled with work and terror.

"They had a thing, you know," said a voice from behind him. He turned to see Buffy leaning against the doorjamb. Angel lifted an eyebrow.

"Band candy," she said. "And let's not go back there." Her gaze flitted around the room and then finally settled on Angel.

"I didn't expect you to come."

"I wanted to pay my respects. Giles was a good man. And I thought you might want me here."

"I do. Really, I do. I'm glad you came."

Angel steered her toward the edge of the bed and they sat down.

"Dawn told me the end was pretty hard," he said.

Buffy nodded. "It was. But he was sick for years before he told anyone. Before it became so obvious that he had to. I wish…"

"What?" he prodded.

"I wish he'd told us sooner. I wouldn't have wasted so much time screwing around in Italy. I would have come back here."

"I imagine he knew that. He probably didn't want you putting your life on hold waiting for him to die."

"You're right," she sighed. "But I still wish I could kick his ass for it."

Angel pulled her into a hug and felt her shiver. He wasn't surprised to find that, despite all the years that had passed, he still loved holding her. He wondered if she'd finished being cookie dough yet, but he knew it was a terrible time to ask.

"So, what happens now?" he asked.

"I have to go through his things. Most of the furniture is going to a few of the Slayers who are setting up apartments. The books are going to the Watcher's main library, except for the books on magick, which Willow wants. And this one." She leaned over and ran her fingers over a book on the nightstand. It was an old, heavy tome with a worn leather cover and the word "Vampyre" emblazoned in raised gold letters across the front cover. "This one is mine."

"What about the rest?" Angel asked.

"Giles had a lot of money in the bank, more than I ever suspected. That's going into scholarship and loan funds for the girls. Xander and Dawn wanted a trinket, something to remember him by. The rest will go to charity or the dump. You want anything?"

Angel shook his head. He didn't need anything from this place.

"Speaking of Dawn and Xander," he asked, changing the subject, "is something up with them? They looked a little cozy earlier today."

For the first time that day, Buffy smiled. "Dawn won't confirm nor deny, but Xander gets antsy whenever I ask him about it. I guess they'll 'fess up when they're ready."

"Doesn't that seem a bit weird to you?"

"You mean weirder than dating a 250-year-old vampire or a 1,000-year-old vengeance demon? No, not really."

He shrugged. If it didn't bother her, it didn't bother him.

"It all goes by so fast, you know?" she said. "One minute you're at cheerleader tryouts, thinking the worst thing that could happen to you is to be embarrassed in front of the jocks, and the next you're burying your old friends. Where did the years go?"

Angel didn't have an answer, but he didn't think she expected one, anyway. He simply stroked her head as she talked.

"You know, you don't have to do this all today, or even tomorrow. Give it a week or so. Attack it again when the grief's not so raw."

"No, I need to do it now. Get it over with. Keep busy." She leapt up, and Angel shook his head.

"Some things never change."

"Look," Buffy said, shifting from resignation to jitteriness as she paced across the room. "I can't stay long today, so I have to get to work. I promised Willow I'd meet her and Xander and Dawn back at my hotel room."

"That's OK," Angel said, standing. "I can go if you—"

"No!" she shouted suddenly, and Angel started at the vehemence in her voice.

"Or I can stay." He sat back down, and Buffy came back to his side.

"I haven't told you why I asked you here."

"I was wondering about that…"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking since I found out Giles was sick. Thinking about how fast life passes us by. I know that's a cliché, but it's true. And I don't want to look around me ten years from now, when I'm burying another one of my friends, and realize I'm still the self-absorbed teenager who's too good for everyone."

"What are you talking about?"

She took a deep breath, and the next words came out in a rush, stumbling over each other. "Angel, I want you. I want to be with you. If you think too much has happened and you don't want me, fine, I can deal, but I love you so much and I don't—"

"Buffy, hang on," he interrupted. "Are you sure about this? I mean, are you sure you're not just reacting to Giles' death? Maybe you should take some time—"

"I've wasted enough time."

"Are you telling me you're done baking?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I'll never be done baking. No one is ever done. I see that with Dawn. She's 27, and she's changing all the time. All I know is that I want to finish baking with you."

He stared at her, trying to find a sign that this was all a joke or early dementia. He'd hoped to hear those words for so long, but he'd never really expected to.

"Nothing has changed," he warned her. "I still can't give you children, or—or…"

"Sex?" she finished. "Trust me. I've been around enough to know that sex is overrated. I don't need what's in your pants, Angel. I need what's in here." She poked at his chest with her pointer finger. "So, what do you say? Is it too much to ask for a Slayer and a vampire to give it another try in this crazy world?"

He answered her by showering her neck with kisses, and they clung to each other for a few minutes before Angel pulled away. "I'd better leave you to your packing, or you'll never get anything done."

"Promise me you'll be here when I'm done?"

"I'll be here whenever you need me to be here," he promised. Then he left her to her packing.

Buffy flipped through the "Vampire" book, and memories of Giles filled the room. She'd told him once, a long time ago, that she no longer needed him to teach her anything. She'd believed it at the time, but now she realized that she'd been a fool. As his last lesson to her, while she sat with him through his final, agonizing breaths, he'd taught her that she needed to stop waiting for the perfect time to be happy. She needed to grasp whatever happiness she could while it presented itself, because life would be over all too quickly. And the truth was that she would never love anyone as much as she loved Angel, no matter what dark forces presented themselves. A tear fell onto the leather cover, and she wiped it away with her thumb.

"Thank you, Giles," she whispered. "Thank you for never giving up on me."

Then she put the book down and got to work. Angel, Dawn and her friends were waiting for her.


End file.
